


AVALANCHE: Theoretically Reflective Action

by sub_divided



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: And how hard it is to actually be a revolutionary, Basically my essay about how AVALANCHE is marxist, Canon - Original Game, Canon Backstory, Gen, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Memory Loss, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Pre-Heist, Spies & Secret Agents, There's some CLOTI leanings but it's mostly gen backstory sorry, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sub_divided/pseuds/sub_divided
Summary: “We don’t have time for this!” Barret exploded.  “They’ll be resetting the passcodes soon… and then…”No one wanted to finish the sentence - they all knew what would happen then.  Months of hard work, planning, down the drain.  They’d have to start all over again.“We did it before, we can do it again,” Jessie said resolutely.  “I’m getting really good with the fake IDs, I can whip them up in a couple hours now!  And the passcodes - no problem!”“Yeah, it’ll be fine!” Wedge said.  “We’re still alive!  That’s the important thing.”They all knew it would be harder, though.  The places they’d lifted the keycards from would have better security, the soldiers who’d run their mouths and gotten caught would have been demoted and replaced.  They’d been lucky so far, there was no guarantee they’d succeed a second time.It was starting to look like their plan, after so many months, would stall at the finish line.****The story of how Cloud joins AVALANCHE.  Also my essay about how the original game is hella Marxist (see author's note).
Relationships: AVALANCHE & Barret Wallace, AVALANCHE & Cloud Strife, AVALANCHE & Tifa Lockhart, Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	1. AVALANCHE: Theoretically Reflective Action

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I just played the original, 1997 Final Fantasy VII a few weeks ago and I was struck by how actually revolutionary it is? Like this game is hella Marxist, no kidding... as you travel to the various towns and see the environmental degradation caused by Shinra and how much the rural villagers are suffering, compared to how good the Shinra elite have it, and even ordinary folks are mostly OK with this because of what they see on TV? Honestly it just reminds me of this: 
> 
> http://www.markfoster.net/struc/praxis.html
> 
> So I wanted to explore that a little bit in this fic, and also share my CLOTI shipper feelings about why Tifa doesn't get on Cloud's case more about his wonky memory hahaha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

**CHAPTER ONE: Recruiting**

“No issues finding us?” Tifa asked, absently wiping down bar glasses with a rag. The perfect mindless cover task, she’d cleaned this set twice already. If the new recruit was a bust, she’d suddenly find herself needing to clear the tap lines, or bring up ice from the basement, or some other chore that would require her full attention, sorry now’s not a good time, come again later. 

“Nah, this sector’s a breeze compared to 3… now _that’s_ a maze…” The man fit the description of what they were looking for, fairly young (mid-twenties) but not a teenager, with a forgettable face and loose, dark pants tied at the waist over a plain grey tank. He had a wispy blonde mustache and sideburns, but no beard and wore training bracelets on both wrists. 

His slippers, Jesse had pointed out, were expensive. 

“Pretty far from here,” Tifa observed, slightly troubled. “I don’t think we put the flyers up in Sector 3, did we, Jesse?”

“Furthest out was sector 5,” Jessie confirmed, from the customer’s side of the bar. She flashed her most winning smile at the mustachioed man seated to her left, it couldn’t hurt to make a good impression on their wannabe new member. “So how’d you find us, Mister...?”

“Bannerick, call me Rick. Oh, you know, word of mouth. I have my ears to the ground.”

“I guess we weren’t exactly subtle with the flyers,” Tifa said, and Jesse laughed. They’d put their recruitment flyers up in every corner of the sector - nothing too obvious, and they’d been careful to not mention AVALANCHE by name - that was another flyer campaign - but if you knew how to read between the lines they were obviously an anti-Shinra group. 

Over the last few weeks, they’d interviewed maybe a dozen people, but most had been clear duds - too young or too old, or they’d asked too many questions too soon into the interview. After the last one, Barret had banned anyone they couldn’t verify lived in the slums - too likely to be a Shinra spy. 

“They have a walk to them, see?” he’d said, and demonstrated a kind of stiff gait, with one hand casually dangling where the standard regulation gun holster would be. “Fucking green recruits! Just out of basic training! Ha! But they aren’t sending the real spies after us yet, that’s good. We still have some time.” 

Tifa, herself, lacked Barret’s sixth sense for Shinra military… and unlike their leader, she was usually willing to extend the wannabe recruits the benefit of the doubt. Still, she hadn’t been in this group for two years without learning a thing or two about (justified) paranoia from Barret. 

“I know a lot of people,” Bannerick said, with a smile. Tifa felt his smile was a bit smug. But maybe he was just confident? Maybe he had a reason to be confident? He didn’t look like much physically - the muscle tone on his exposed arms was less than Tifa’s - but he dressed like a fighter and looks could be deceiving, as she personally knew well. 

“Oh yeah? Like which people?” Tifa smiled at him charmingly, leaning casually across the bar. Another test, to put him off his guard… 

Generally the moment the prospective recruits saw Barret - and specifically his gun arm - was the moment they realized that _this_ group went beyond the petty vandalism and letter-writing campaigns of most anti-Shinra groups. 

_This_ group, unlike all those other groups, was planning something a lot more illegal. 

Tifa’s job - and Jesse’s, when she wasn’t working on their tech - was to put off the moment of realization until they could gauge how the recruits would handle that information. 

In the corner, Barret, Biggs and Wedge kept their conversation low and their ears open. A couple other customers, Sector 7 regulars, had the table in the corner near the jukebox and filled in the silence with a low buzz of conversation, reinforcing that the bar was a semi-public place (so don’t try anything funny, OK?). 

“Oh you know...sector 5 people,” Bannerick said. “Ruby’s diner, the repair shop by the column. People.”

“We know them,” Jesse confirmed, and Tifa nodded. 

That was the first hurdle cleared, you’d need to know at least one slum dweller to find the entrance to Ruby’s. 

Tifa motioned Jesse over, they’d reached Phase Two. “How about we talk at one of the tables?” she asked. “Get to know each other a little better.”

***

A couple drinks in, and Rick was pretty free with his opinions on the current state of the world. 

“You know, they don’t _have_ to make the eyes glow,” he was telling them. “Trust me, there’s a natural mako spring like ten minutes out of town, me and my buds used to drive out there all the time. You’d get weird mutations but nothing like that. I think Shinra does it on purpose, to mark them - like hey, this person is Shinra property, don’t mess with the merchandise. Like a copyright, you know?”

“I don’t know, it seems weird,” Jesse said. “Wouldn’t folks trust SOLDIER more if they didn’t look so different?”

“The point is to NOT be trusted,” Rick said. “To keep the lines clear - civilians on one side, SOLDIER on the other. That way there’s nowhere for them to defect to when they get tired of being military… no other game in town, right? Who’d trust an ex-SOLDIER?” 

_Who indeed_ , Tifa thought, biting her lip. 

“But it’s kinda dumb too, Shinra’s not the only folks who do modding work. I mean, your guy has an arm mod right? I can kinda see it under the cloak... It’s not that common but you can find the doctors to do the fixes, or even get contact lenses, right? It’s like they _choose_ to stand out… can’t let go of their privilege around us commoners, even for a second,” and he smiled, bitterly. 

“Amen brother!” Wedge clinked his glass to that, which signaled for another round. Tifa got up to fetch the beers while Biggs and Wedge got chummy. This was the main purpose of Phase Two, to make the recruits feel like they were already in while, actually, revealing nothing. 

“I don’t know…” Jesse said, looking doubtful. She might have fluttered her eyelashes and bitten her lip too. Acting, and Bannerick was easy to convince. He hardly needed Phase Two to open up, his opinions were spilling out as if he’d been waiting months for an audience. 

“Oh, trust me, _I_ know. When you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, you start to know how these things work.” Bannerick - Rick - gave her a sardonic, slightly patronizing smile. 

“Mmm.”

“Best food, best drink, free perks and free girls.” Bannerick drained his beer - the new one. Tifa refilled it for him. “Disgusting, leave some for the rest of us, goddamn! There was this one time at the Sector 3 station after work, I saw a group of SOLDIER kick a whole family off the train, _after_ they boarded... parents dead tired on their feet, two _young_ kids screaming about dinner… All because SOLIDER needed the train car for “official business”. 

“And what ‘official business’ did they need the whole car for? Girls from Wall Market! They just wanted a party car...” 

Well, Tifa had to hand it to him in one way - it was the easiest interview they’d given in a long time. Either Bannerick - Rick - was telling the truth, or he was one of the Shinra spies who’d come up from the slums recently (and that would be easy enough to check). No one could make this many details up, at least not without the risk of getting caught. 

She barely had to _give_ the interview, this guy was nothing but talk, talk, talk. 

Now she sounded like Barret…

“Enough talk!” their leader said, and banged his arm on the table. 

You know. _The_ arm. 

This was generally the point when their less committed prospects - the ones who thought they were joining just another anti-Shinra social club - thought again. 

The gun arm indicated that unlike the many other anti-Shinra groups that existed in the slums, their group was more extreme, and probably more violent. _Definitely_ very, very much more illegal - as was the mod itself. 

The guy didn’t blink. “Cool mod,” he said. “It reminds me of this guy I know in Sector 3…”

****

“So…. what’s the plan?” Jesse said, after Bannerick had stumbled out, completely shitfaced after an hour - or more - of anti-Shinra storytelling time. 

They all turned to Barret. He had the best sense for these things. 

“No fucking way,” Barret grumbled. ”I refuse to work with that guy… couldn’t get a word in edgewise, total showboat.”

“Are you sure, I liked him,” said Jesse. Tifa bit her lip. She’d liked him too, but…

“He talks too much,” Barret said. “A guy like that can’t keep secrets,”

“You can’t know that,” Jesse objected. “You’re just jumping to conclusions. I say we give him a chance, see what he does.” She rounded to Tifa. “TIf, back me up!”

“He seemed okay.. but…”

“Are you kidding? That guy _hates_ Shinra, he had a million and one examples of everything they do wrong! Some things even I didn’t know! I think I hate Shinra even more now than I did before, and I didn’t think that was possible!”

“I guess, but… ” she wasn’t sure how to put it. 

A SOLDIER from Shinra burned down her town and killed everyone she knew. Jesse saw what absolute scum the Shinra elite were when they thought they had a free pass to do whatever they wanted to her and the other “actresses” at the Golden Saucer… and then came home to her dying father, who Shinra refused to even admit was poisoned, lest they have to pay out damages. Biggs and Wedge lost their town to an industrial processing plant for manufactured materia, and then a couple years later to a mysterious disease that _also_ looked a lot like untreated Mako poisoning. And Barret...

She didn’t want to judge, but even though Bannerick - Rick - knew what he was talking about, it didn’t seem to matter to him like it did to AVALANCHE. 

Everyone in this group _needed_ Shinra to be stopped, or at least slowed down. They needed someone to remind this evil company that they weren’t (yet) in charge of the whole Planet, that some people still remembered the old ways… 

They needed to spread the word of the Planet, the mako, the materia, and all the other difficult things that Barret was constantly asking them to memorize, in little pamphlet tracts from the original founder of AVALANCHE that Tifa barely understood. 

Besides that, Shinra needed a reminder that some people had lost so much already, they really had nothing else left to lose….

Very few people had that level of commitment… especially in Midgar. If you were from Midgar, you might disagree with some of what Shinra did but they were the devil you knew. You probably used all their products, starting from your home’s electricity and ending with your toilet paper. 

In fact, Shinra Corp had been founded in Midgar, back when it was still just a regional power company selling coal by the bagful for people to cart home in wheelbarrows, and not the weapons-manufacturing megacorp that on the one hand made all the gadgets that everyone suddenly needed in their homes, and on the other hand broadcast the advertisements that sold the gadgets, and on the third hand sold the energy that powered them. 

The company that now powered the whole Planet by slowly killing it had integrated themselves into every level of life in Midgar - it was hard to imagine any alternative to them. 

There was a reason most of their recruits came from outside the city limits, where the old village ways lived on.... 

“I think Barret’s right,” Wedge said. “He had the commitment in his head, but here…” He put his hand over his heart, dramatically. “I dunno, the heart wasn’t there bro. He’s still got it too good.”

“Are you saying we need Shinra to be _worse_ before we recruit people?” Jesse demanded. “Because by the time they get worse it’ll be too late for the Planet!”

“I’m not saying that, just...”

“He’s not a believer,” Barret said. “Period. He might think he is, but his shit petty and his grudge over a SOLDIER stealing his girlfriend or whatever ain’t gonna cut it when the bullets start flying. I don’t want that guy at my back.” 

Tifa had had the same thought, but hadn’t been sure enough of herself to say it. Just because _her_ village had burned, did that mean that _every_ recruit needed to come from a burning village?

But that was why Barret was their leader, he had a purity of vision and he didn’t sugarcoat his opinions, but just accepted that what he had to say would piss people off. 

“I don’t see the issue,” Biggs said. “Not everyone’s cut out for sabotage, right? But there’s still plenty for a guy like that to do… he can make flyers, right? Write books? Go on the radio? Who cares how petty his reasons are, half the world runs on petty spite. Put him in touch with Eddy who has the printing press...”

***

In the loose confederation of anti-Shinra orgs that had popped up in Midgar after the war - like mushrooms after the rain - AVALANCHE v. 2 was hoping to take it further than any group had before. 

They planned to strike the mako reactors that ringed the city, and totally disable them. Once the first reactor went down they’d need to move quickly, it wouldn’t take long before Shinra traced the bombing back to them. In an optimistic scenario, they’d get halfway around the rim before they were caught. 

They’d spent months collecting intel, passcards, recording the voices of Shinra personnel for audio checkpoints, memorizing train schedules, the quickest routes in and out of the industrial zones. 

Biggs and Wedge most often posed as Shinra recruits, went to the bars that they frequented and jotted down the paths that Shinra soldiers took on patrol. They’d needed weeks and months of diligent, highly circuitous questioning before they’d gotten an idea of how many soldiers bunked in each garrison, how many they could expect would be called in once the first reactor went down. 

When Wedge accidentally scored the passcode that got Jesse into the system where the blueprints for all eight reactors were kept, that had been their first major breakthrough. Before, Tifa privately admitted she’d been losing hope - the odds against them seemed too high, and only Barret’s optimism had kept them going. But that breakthrough had made their crazy plan seem possible, after all.

All in all this was a complex operation that had been in the works for months - at its earliest stages, of discussing mako and materia theory and what strategic actions they could personally take to slow the death of the Planet, for more than a year. 

Four reactors. The first would be the easiest, or maybe the most difficult. It was hard to say how prepared their opponent would be. 

Now, in the final stages of planning, nearly everything was in place. 

Now they just needed a backup guy, someone to handle Shinra’s unknown but _definitely_ violent response once the first reactor went down. 

In fact, by Barret’s estimation, they needed anywhere from three to five guys - preferably with some combat experience. 

After all their efforts so far, it was tempting to rush this - to just settle for the best of a bad bunch. 

They couldn’t risk it, though. This last step, so close to the mission they’d been planning for months and years - they needed to be more careful than ever. 

****

**CHAPTER TWO: Clinic**

Tifa shut the door after the last customer and sighed. With Jessie holed up in her room for the last two days breaking some new Shinra code, and Barret scouting the other bars for muscle, she was on her own at the bar tonight. At least her regulars had been thoughtful enough to stack the chairs, and sweep the floor for her before they left. 

She understood why the bar couldn’t take on help - it would be far too easy for a new hire to mess around, and find the entrance to AVALANCHE HQ under the pinball machine. But it was lonely and boring to close out alone. Still, in a place as dirty as the slums, they had to clean every day, or the bar would soon be a grimy, sooty mess. The air pollution from the city above tended to collect below the plate. 

There was one thing good about being alone for clean up, however. 

Tifa stashed the mop and bucket behind the counter, and carefully emptied the contents of the cash register into the pouch around her waist. Dr. L had said not to bring payment but his guest would need to eat, right? There’d be water and electricity bills associated with an extra person at the clinic, right? It wasn’t right to let the kind-hearted doctor foot the entire bill alone, just as a favor to her... 

Tifa slipped out the back door, she didn’t want to be followed tonight. 

****

In the slums, concepts of day and night were relative. The plate hung low, blocking out the midday sunlight and casting everything underneath into perpetual gloom. Some residents had jobs above, and kept a regular schedule. But most shops and businesses opened at night, when the workers on the plate ventured down in search of seedy adventure, and the density of electric signs and lamps blended together into a unified glow that almost rivaled the daylight.

Well, not really. But it had its own homey, boozy charm. 

Tifa picked her way through the alleys, past the open-air meat market and stalls for hydroponic vegetables (much more expensive than the natural kind, but fresher). The hawkers called out, they would close when they ran out of things to sell, which would likely happen soon, considering that fresh meat and vegetables were in short supply in the Midgar slums. Most residents made do with canned and processed foods or if they had slightly more refined tastes (and much bigger wallets), frozen. Only residents who’d just moved in from the countryside insisted on paying the premium for fresh food straight off the farmer’s wagons. Middle aged ladies crowded in with baskets, looking for slightly-spoiled bargains from vendors who wanted to pack up and go home. At this time of night, the clinic, too, would be closed. 

“Hey Tifa, stop in for a drink?”

“Not tonight, I have an errand…”

“Aw,” her friend, stuck behind a line of empty steel drums with a length of corrugated aluminum laid on top - the serving counter of a makeshift sake stall - pouted. Next to him was the fish stall, where a grinning chef hacked pieces off a giant, fresh tuna resting on an equally giant slab of ice. The customers ate their bits of sushi right there in the wet market, under the floodlights, and the sake they bought at the same time helped wash it down and cover up the smell so their family at home didn’t complain about the frivolous expense.  
“Next time!”

“Sure, next time,” he said, and toasted her. “Stop by anytime, the nights pass faster when you’re around.”

“Sure, Sorin.”

Tifa hadn’t considered that she was well known here, that people would talk, rumors would get around. The most direct route to the clinic passed through the market… 

But then, there was no particular reason why these visits needed to remain a mystery, was there? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Tifa herself didn’t understand why she was so secretive about this. Maybe she was trying to make up her mind before anyone in AVALANCHE found out?

She wasn’t sure what they would think - hell, Tifa didn’t know what she, _herself_ thought. 

The only thing Tifa knew for certain about Cloud Strife was that he hated Shinra as much as any of them. 

****

Earlier in the day, they’d reached a new low point. 

“Goddamn cowards!” Barret said, and punched the wall hard enough that the television set screwed in above the bar almost came crashing down on their heads. Tifa put a hand out to catch it, just in case. 

“Did you try that guy you knew, Tifa?” Biggs asked, and Tifa fought down panic. How long had Biggs known about Cloud? She’d been so careful… sure, she’d brought Cloud around to the bar the first day she’d found him. But she’d been careful to hide the eyes. 

Had he told anyone? Had AVALANCHE known all along? Why hadn’t any of them said anything? 

“You know… the boxer guy,” Biggs said, taking her panic as simple confusion. “With the scar…”

“Ah, yeah. No, he’s good where he’s at. He said he’d ask his buddies, though.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Barret exploded. “They’ll be resetting the passcodes soon… and then…”

No one wanted to finish the sentence - they all knew what would happen then. Months of hard work, planning, down the drain. They’d have to start all over again.

“We did it before, we can do it again,” Jessie said resolutely. “I’m getting really good with the fake IDs, I can whip them up in a couple hours now! And the passcodes - no problem!”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine!” Wedge said. “We’re still alive! That’s the important thing.”

They all knew it would be harder, though. The places they’d lifted the keycards from would have better security, the soldiers who’d run their mouths and gotten caught would have been demoted and replaced. They’d been lucky so far, there was no guarantee they’d succeed a second time. 

It was starting to look like their plan, after so many months, would stall at the finish line. 

It wasn’t that it was hard to find muscle in the slums, Tifa reflected as AVALANCHE drank in glum silence. Finding muscle was easy. Finding muscle that was _looking for work_ was the hard part. 

After all, there were so many options available for fighters… 

Bodyguard for the soaplands of Wall Street? Easy money, a few drunks and the occasional tearful relative, nothing too dangerous. Personal guard to the Don himself? Even easier, everyone knew not to try anything. Bouncer at a sector bar? Half the crowd knew the other half, the only trouble was convincing your friends NOT to have your back in a bar fight. 

With the Midgar city police long replaced by Shinra military, who could care less about what happened below-plate, the slums were on their own as far as enforcement went. Everyone needed muscle, but despite all the gyms, fitness clubs, underground boxing rings, and martial arts schools that popped up in every sector, the demand continued to outstrip the supply. 

“I can’t believe you don’t know _anyone_ , Tifa! Weren’t you in one of those clubs? There must be someone…” Wedge said. 

Tifa shook her head. “That was years ago,” she said. “And I’ve already tried everyone…”

Well. Not _everyone_. 

“Cowards, bastards… selfish…” Barret muttered, and Tifa agreed. 

Tifa hadn't imagined it would be this hard. When she'd first come to Midgar, _everyone_ she'd known worked as muscle - she'd even lived above a boxing ring, herself, looked after by friends of her old martial arts instructor. In fact, Tifa had been in the scene herself briefly, participating in the show rounds that served as advertisements for martial arts skill until fighters could find steadier work. Unlike them, Tifa had never transitioned to security work, instead saving her winnings until she’d had enough saved to buy the bar. 

And that was the problem. Everyone good from back then had already been hired. Her networks were several years out of date. 

Of all the places for their plan to stall, this was the least expected… and she couldn’t help but feel it was her fault. This was _her_ part of the plan after all - while Jessie handled tech and Biggs and Wedge handled intelligence, she’d find the muscle. But despite knowing almost every tough guy in sector seven, no one she knew had wanted to risk an easy living on something so perilous. 

Who did Avalanche know who was tough, committed, could be counted on to keep quiet, and (most importantly) didn’t have anything else better to do?

Tifa knew the answer, but she didn’t want to admit to herself that she knew it. 

****

Ducking into an alley, she made for the rooftops. She’d been spotted once, but she wouldn’t be again. From there it was a short trip across the slums to the clinic. Finding the door locked, she quietly toed off her shoes and let herself in. The Doctor always kept a couch open for after hours visitors, and Tifa sank onto it gratefully. She’d get at least a few hours of sleep before the clinic opened for business the next morning. 

The clinic boy, Ellin, was the first to find her in the morning. Which was a good thing, because Doctor L, bleeding heart that he was, would have probably let her sleep in and she needed to talk to him before he got busy with the customers. 

Tifa yawned and stretched. How many hours of sleep had she gotten? Two or three at most…

“Is the doctor around?” she asked Ellin. The boy started, and nearly dropped the chair he’d been setting out in the waiting area. 

“He’s out back!” Ellin said. “Just be careful, I think he’s in a bad mood today…I don’t think he slept much.”

“Oh, I see,” Tifa said. They’d have that in common, at least. “Thank you for warning me.” 

“No problem.”

In the back, there was a small ‘outdoor’ area - bare concrete - surrounded by the clinic walls on three sides, with a fence on the fourth side. Three rusting lawn chairs were arranged in a circle around a small iron table with a radio on it. The Doctor sat there moodily, smoking a cigarette and changing the station every few seconds. 

“Tifa!” he said as she stepped out with shoes in hand. “I was wondering when you’d be back!”

“It’s been busy at the bar,” Tifa deflected. She trusted the Doctor, but the less he knew about her activities with AVALANCHE, the safer it would be for him. “How’s business?”

“Plenty of business, the problem is that most of them can’t pay,” Doctor L said frankly. “But I knew that when I decided to open a clinic here… Stop!” He’d seen her reaching for her purse. 

“But…”

“No buts, I owe you and Barret.”

“At least let me…” And she slid the purse across the table, with a growler of beer from the bar, before taking one of the other chairs and sinking down heavily. “Grocery money.”

“... Your friend eats like a horse and we need more saline solution, thank you, Tifa. But this is the last time I’ll accept anything.” 

“Does that mean he’s well enough to leave?” Tifa fought to keep the hope out of her voice, but she was sure she’d failed. It had been weeks already… 

When she’d stumbled across Cloud at the train station he’d been dehydrated, weak and disoriented from wandering the Midgar wastes alone, but she hadn’t realized at first that anything else was wrong with him. She’d let him crash in her room above the bar until he could sort himself out, find someplace else to stay. 

It had been maybe two days before she’d realized that as quickly as he recovered physically, the mental fog was much slower to lift. That was when she’d brought him around to the clinic, to see what Doctor L could do about it. 

In the two weeks he’d been here, Tifa had come to visit several times. Each time he seemed a bit better, more alert. The last time she’d visited, she’d had a long conversation with him about Nibelheim, the promise they'd made the last time they’d seen each other. Cloud’s memory of that moment was very complete and it matched Tifa’s exactly. He’d even remembered details she’d forgotten, like what she’d been wearing that day. It gave her hope that he’d eventually snap out of his fugue, and have something more specific to say about the rest of the time they’d been apart. 

“Well,” Doctor L said. “About that…” He took another drag on his cigarette then, as if to put off the bad news, and looked around. There was no one else outside, and all the windows were closed. Still, he got up to slide the patio door shut, and moved his chair closer to Tifa’s. 

She leaned in. 

“We shouldn’t talk too loudly, he has very good hearing,” Doctor L whispered. Tifa nodded. That made sense, with the mako eyes…

“...kidding!” Doctor L said, and leaned back. “I just don’t want the customers wandering by, it’s none of their business. I’ve told Cloud all this already, not that he believes me.” 

And saying that, Doctor L picked up the growler of Tifa’s beer, unscrewing the lid and taking a long gulp. “Hair of the dog,” he explained to Tifa, who shrugged and waved away his offer to share. “We had multiple gunshot wounds come in last night, it was rough. I just got to sleep a few hours ago.”

“If you need me to come back…”

“Oh no, you’re here now, stay. You should hear this from me anyway.”

****

**CHAPTER THREE: Cloud**

“Are you saying… he’s still not better?” Tifa was trying to follow the Doctor’s explanation of Cloud’s mental state, but he kept using medical jargon and talking in circles. 

She just wanted the answer to a simple question - was Cloud OK, or wasn’t he? 

“Define ‘Better,’” Doctor L said, pouring more beer. “Physically, he’s fine. In fact, he’s better than fine - your friend is probably in the top 0.01% of humankind in terms of physical fitness. He could lift us both at the same time, one in each hand.”

Tifa nodded. That tracked with the mako eyes, and Cloud’s confused account of joining SOLDIER, only to quit several years later after the burning of Nibelheim. 

Though Tifa knew he hadn’t been in Nibelheim then… 

“Your friend is in a very strange state,” Doctor L said, lighting another cigarette. Tifa waved off his offer to share that, too. 

“There’s nothing wrong with him mentally,” The Doctor explained. “He passed all the cognitive tests with flying colors. But the strange thing… he doesn’t seem to be able to answer any questions about himself. At least, not in a consistent way. He seems to change his story, sometimes he contradicts himself.. Sometimes he seems to be another person… or to view himself as another person...” 

Doctor L shrugged. “The brain is a funny thing,” he summarized. “It comes up with all kinds of funny ways to defend itself. Anyway, he’s probably fine so you can take him home now. Just be careful when you ask about his past, you don’t want to confuse him until he’s ready to tell you the truth.”

Tifa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you saying he’s… lying?” she said. It didn’t make sense - the Cloud she knew wouldn’t lie. In fact, he’d always been painfully honest when they were kids - so honest it had gotten him into trouble. “It’s been years but… that doesn’t sound like him…” 

“You aren’t looking at it the right way,” The Doctor said. “I’m not talking about lies, but a medical condition… do kids lie when you ask them whether they really saw the monster under the bed?”

“But… he’s not a kid…?”

Tifa didn’t know what to say. When they’d talked about their promise together, it had felt so real… it had felt _more_ than real. How could he remember that moment so exactly, and not the rest of it? 

And Nibelheim and Sephiroth… if Tifa could forget that moment, she would. Why remember _that_ , and forget the less important things? 

“Perhaps he’s repressed those memories, or it could be a neurological side effect from whatever poisons he was exposed to out on the wastes,” the Doctor said philosophically, and not without kindness. 

“And since no one else was there, we may never know the truth. Either way, I’m afraid you won’t get anything coherent out of him for some time. But just be kind, and patient, and I’m sure you’ll figure something out eventually.”

Doctor L extinguished his cigarette to put his hand over Tifa’s. “You can do that, right Tifa? I think sometimes you might be the kindest person in the slums.”

Then he shook another cigarette out of the carton. 

“After myself, of course.”

***

Cloud woke up from a dream to the sound of two voices speaking quietly, but intensely, in the courtyard below. If he opened his second floor window, and focused, he’d be able to hear what they said; but instead he lay in bed, trying to recall the dream. 

It had been one from his mercenary days, lying low as a platoon of Shinra guards passed by on patrol. It was important to not be seen: in this world Shinra had the monopoly on force and they wouldn’t take kindly to competition from the likes of him. Any word on Cloud’s illegal mercenary actions, and it would be straight back to the garrison and a military tribunal for him. He’d lose the freedom he’d sacrificed so much to gain, when he’d left SOLDIER after the burning of Nibelheim a year ago. 

It had been hard, since then. It had been hardest at first, he hadn’t known which plants or animals were good to eat in this region and he hadn’t realized how bad the monster problem had gotten in the countryside, away from the towns and roads. 

The oddest thing about his dream - he’d felt doubled. He could remember the feeling of lying on the ground before the fire, a tree root digging into his back and twigs in his hair. He could remember the warmth of the flames, the smell of charred meat. 

And he could also recall clearly, the feeling of gazing at himself as he lay there sleeping. He could see the firelight, flickering on his own skin, and himself shivering, as the cold of the ground seeped up into his clothing. He’d put the blanket on top of himself before sleeping, which was odd, since from a childhood in the mountains he knew it needed to be tucked under, to keep out the chill from the frosty ground. 

It had been an odd feeling, to be himself and outside himself at the same time. No matter what, though, Cloud remembered the need to stay alive. It was very important for him to stay alive - and to stay free, to wander and do as he liked. And he’d also wanted the person in front of the fire, who was himself, to be alive and free too. 

Cloud shrugged. After all, it was just a dream. 

****

**CHAPTER FOUR: Desperate Times**

Tifa couldn’t get her conversation with Doctor L out of her mind. What did it mean? What did any of it mean? 

Of course, the Doctor’s first priority was the health of his patients. For him, the issue of Cloud’s memory gaps was a medical mystery that would be resolved in time. 

But if there was one thing Tifa - AVALANCHE - didn’t have right now, it was time. 

Tifa bit her lip. She’d brought Cloud back to the bar with her - despite Doctor L’s insistence that he was perfectly fine, and perfectly able to look after himself, she didn’t want to just send him away to figure out his own lodging, though Doctor L had been philosophical about that too. 

“It has its perks,” he'd said peacefully, as he laid out his surgical tools and donned his gloves. His patient, on the operating table, looked far less sanguine. “He does learn fast. Just the other day he fixed this radio for me. Oh, and Ellin’s bike chain! The boy was thrilled. With his memories in disarray, he’s like a sponge, he picks up everything - you only have to show him once. He’s been very helpful around the clinic actually, I’d love to keep him around… sadly, things being what they are, I can’t afford to pay him… maybe if I kicked Ellin out… but of course I could never do that…”

Tifa shook her head to clear it. She needed to focus on the meeting, this wasn’t helping. 

On the table in front of the bar, Eddy and Bannerick had laid out their work - a colorful pile of pamphlets, leaflets and posters that Barret was picking through with a sour expression. 

In the corner furthest from their table, Cloud lounged against the wall with his arms crossed, looking exactly like the mercenary he claimed to be. Jessie buzzed around him, curious about the mystery he presented, while Tifa bit her tongue. 

If she brought up the memory issue to Jessie… 

“I’m just saying, it’s hokey… if you want more young people to join your cause you need something a little more hip and edgy. Something that appeals to their desire to be ahead of the trends,” Bannerick explained. 

“This ain’t no popularity contest!” Barret exploded. “Anyone who’d treat it like one - we don’t need em! Fuck the advertisers on TV! This is about the Planet, not which model car to buy!” 

“At least consider…” Eddy, their propaganda guy, took Bannerick’s side in the argument, his arms outstretched in a pleading gesture, as if he could get Barret to just calm down, be reasonable… 

“No. The flyers stay. You can write your own damn flyers, but leave the AVALANCHE name offa them. We ain’t so low as to trick folk to our cause who don’t want to join.”

“It’ll confuse the messaging if there are too many groups…”

“Good, let ‘em be confused. Right now we hafta spread the word that the Planet needs us. _All_ of, we all need to take action before it’s too late! That’s the soul of AVALANCHE no matter what you call it! And if folks agree, they can look up the rest of our ideas too.”

“I like your flyer, Barret,” Wedge said loyally. “It convinced me to join up. Even though I didn’t understand all of the things about the materia… ”

“See, exactly what I’ve been sayin! The truth’s enough, we don’t need to fancy it up.”

***

Cloud watched the goings on with interest. He’d finally been pronounced well enough to leave the clinic - and just in time too, as he didn’t need to be any more of a drain on Doctor L’s kindness than he already had been. The tests had made him uneasy, but he’d endured them as a favor to Tifa, and an acknowledgement that he wasn’t yet ready to strike out on his own in Midgar. Since arriving at the train station, he’d found the layout of the slums confusing, the smells sickening, and the constant chatter he could hear all around him with his SOLDIER-enhanced hearing overwhelming. 

That, as much as anything else, had left him disoriented enough to accept the free bed. 

But, eventually his brain had caught up with the onslaught against his senses, and he’d adjusted. 

It was about time he found work here, and started pulling his own weight. 

So far, the only work he was aware of was with AVALANCHE. Cloud sauntered over to inspect the flyer in question…

『神羅にだまされるな！ Don’t be fooled by Shinra!  
魔晄エネルギーは永遠ではない！ Mako energy doesn’t last forever!  
魔晄は星の命！ Mako is the Planet’s life source!  
いつか終わりがやってくる！ The end is in sight!  
星の救世主：アバランチ』 Protectors of the Planet: AVALANCHE

It didn’t seem very convincing to him - no one ever believed it was "the end" until they saw the evidence with their own eyes, in his opinion. Rebuilding the world from scratch would be difficult, and it would require people to make sacrifices. Most people just wanted to be comfortable. 

Even now, with monsters appearing, pollution worsening, and industrial accidents at the mako reactors happening more and more often, a lot of folks chose to stay blind to the evidence of their own eyes and ears, reluctant to give up their false sense of security. 

But he hadn’t been asked, had he? Cloud understood that he was here for one reason, and one reason only - 

For the money. He was a mercenary, after all. 

****

Tifa kept behind the counter as Barret roared, finally losing his temper and chasing all the other activists out. She’d taken the risk of bringing Cloud around - partially so she could keep an eye on him, and partially to see what everyone else thought of him. But that didn’t seem to be on the cards just yet. When Barret lost his temper and pushed everyone out, he left without complaint. 

Tifa fought the urge to follow. _There’s nothing wrong with him,_ she reminded herself. 

_Except for..._

“Bunch of clowns!” Barret kicked out in frustration, and nearly knocked the table over. Biggs caught it easily before it could tip. 

“You could try being more open-minded,” he said mildly. The other members of Avalanche looked away, they didn’t want to get into this discussion again. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Barret grumbled. “Sooner or later Shinra will change the passcodes again - and then - all our hard work out the window.” They all nodded solemnly. 

Indeed, the time for talking was past. 

And Tifa’s concerns had narrowed into something even more practical and immediate - balancing her commitment to AVALANCHE with her desire to not take advantage of Cloud. 

****

**CHAPTER FIVE: Desperate Measures**

“I thought he’d gotten better!” She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, and hoped that she’d managed it. “He remembered everything about that night perfectly.” 

“Exactly,” Dr L had said. “I need another drink…”

Tifa was getting more and more frustrated with Dr. L's non-explanations. But beggars couldn’t be choosers - who else would care for a stranger without asking questions? And not only a stranger, an _ex-SOLDIER_? Dr. L survived in the slums by treating everyone, no questions asked. The mafia dons all trusted him because they knew he’d heal their guys as soon as he finished healing their enemies’ guys. 

“Memories aren’t what we think they are,” the doctor said philosophically. “In the modern era of videocassettes and cameras, we assume they are like a recording, something to be recalled and replayed. But in fact, each time we access a memory we alter it… the act of remembering causes a new memory to be created. It’s this new memory that’s accessed the next time we recall the same event.” 

“I don’t…”

“Right now your friend has very little sense of self, very little in the way of authentic memory, do you get me? What I’m afraid has happened, and will happen from now on until his sense of self returns, is that as you suggest things that may have happened, your own version of events will supplant what Cloud remembers. You’ll in essence suggest the memory…”

“But I didn’t…!” Tifa was indignant - she would _never_ take advantage. She cared about Cloud - about their promise - far too much for that. 

****

Or would she? Tifa bit her lip. 

Roaming outside the bar was exactly the answer to all of their problems. 

But would it be right to use Cloud that way? 

“About the deadline... “ 

With sinking hearts, they all turned to look at Jessie. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” Jessie seemed uncharacteristically nervous, which made Tifa nervous, as well. 

That was probably a bad sign... 

“What’s up, Jess?” Biggs said it gently, always the gentleman. 

“Well… I was trying to reverse engineer the idea ID cards, to make a copy in case we ended up finding more people, right? And… as it turns out…”

“Just spit it out!” Barret told her. “I said we don’t have time for this! Goddamn!” 

“...Well. I was wrong about the reset time, it looks like they’re hard-coded to expire every _four_ months, not six.”

All of them were silent. 

“Oh boy…” Wedge said, eventually. 

“And considering that everything will be shut down for the December holiday… then that means…” 

“The day after tomorrow- ” 

“Friday-”

“This weekend!” 

Wedge, Biggs and Tifa all spoke at the same time. Barret just drank his beer, moodily. 

Probably all of them were thinking the same thing, but Barret was too stubborn to say anything. 

All their hard work - for nothing. They’d have to start from scratch. Or else risk every thing on a half-baked gesture - a suicide run. 

By the time they got everything together again - how long would it be? Another three months? Six? What if they were caught before then?

To come so far, only to give up here… 

“Hey Tifa?” Wedge had a middle-child’s instinct for defusing the situation. “Can I ask you something about that guy you brought in?”

“Sure,” Tifa said. “Go ahead?”

“Who is he? Where’d you find him?”

Suddenly all eyes in the bar were on her. Tifa considered her knuckles, the bruises on them, the grime under her fingernails. There were many possible ways to answer that question, and in fact, Tifa had asked herself some version of it many times since fetching Cloud from Dr. L’s. 

“...He’s just someone I know,” Tifa said, eventually. 

“He’s amazing,” Jesse said. 

“He’s a SOLDIER,” Barret said, flatly. 

“He’s an Ex-SOLDIER!” Jessie defended. 

“He’s had the mako infusions… that could be a huge thing for us…” Biggs mused. 

“I bet that guy could do the work of four guys!” Jessie said. “He's ripped, you sure know how to pick ‘em, Tifa.” 

“No _fucking_ way,” Barret said, but his heart wasn’t entirely in it. 

They were _very_ desperate. 

Wedge wasn’t done, though. 

“But how do you know an ex-SOLDIER, Tifa? I thought no one ever left SOLDIER?” he asked. 

Tifa had to hand it to him- he sounded purely curious, not even a little bit judgemental. 

But then, that talent was the reason he made such an excellent spy. 

And speaking of spies… 

Tifa still wasn’t even sure how Cloud had managed to leave SOLDIER - or even if he’d managed to leave SOLDIER at all. She’d wanted to ask so badly, but how could she? With Dr. L’s warnings in mind.... 

If she pressed for details she’d be as likely to hear something made up on the spot as the truth. 

And wasn’t that just _so_ convenient? 

If Cloud was a spy - wouldn’t the supposed memory issue be the absolute best cover story he could have devised? 

Wasn’t it convenient, that Cloud’s cover story had a million holes _and_ couldn’t be questioned? 

Tifa, in the end, really had nothing. No reason to trust Cloud, except for a memory from seven years ago and a desire to _believe_ that the person she’d stumbled across at the train station was the same boy who’d promised to protect her in a pinch.

(And wasn’t _how_ she’d found him convenient, too? How gullible was Tifa?) 

Even though he couldn’t prove it.

Even though she couldn’t ask him to prove it. 

AVALANCHE were waiting. 

Since Nibelheim, this was the only family she had left. 

“He’s a childhood friend,” she said, finally, firmly. She had to believe it, and she had to make them believe too. “He’s another survivor from my village.”

And that’s what it was, in the end. She didn’t want to be the only one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hit me up in the comments, or you can find me on tumblr as [subdee](https://subdee.tumblr.com/).


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra scene I had written, but didn't want to include in the fic proper bc it's more powerful to end with Tifa's feeling's about Cloud than random thoughts of OCs. :P But since it's been a while since I posted this, why not.

Banneick cleared his throat, and read from the little printed pamphlet in front of him.

“There is still, I think, not enough recognition of the fact that the desire to think - which is fundamentally a moral problem - must be induced before the power is developed. Most people wish above all else to be comfortable, and thought is a pre-eminently uncomfortable process; it brings to the individual far more suffering than happiness…”

“Ugh,” Barret said. “Pretentious nonsense…”

“Hey, you run your side,” Eddy said, “And I’ll run mine, okay? We have to reach all the markets, some intellectuals appreciate an intellectual approach… “

“It’s not intellectual, it’s just self-satisfied jerkoffs jerking themselves off...” 

“Do you want my help, or not?” Bannerick asked. “Because this is what will convince people to join you…” 

Life was funny, sometimes. 

AVALANCHE v. 2 had started as a discussion group - they’d read the materials of the founder, and dreamed about going to Cosmo Canyon to see an alternate way of life, without relying on Mako energy.

Their early meetings had been explosive, as they’d discussed and debated their ideas and strategies back and forth, drunk on the idea that they could actually do something, change something. 

So, in a way, Tifa could understand Bannerick and Eddy - they were still at that first stage, of talk and debate. 

At the current moment, though, the concerns of the core of AVALANCHE were more practical and immediate - they’d long since passed the point of discussing strategy. 

“Just let him print what he wants,” Biggs advised. “Couldn’t hurt…”

“To hell it couldn’t hurt! I won’t let the AVALANCHE name get used by wankers who just wanna impress other wankers!”

****

And after all that, Shinra installed a huge set of screens, right above the central market - within hours of their first (triumphant) victory, before they'd even gotten back to the bar after blowing up the first reactor. 

Compared to the number of people who listened to the Shinra broadcast, only a handful read the pamphlets. Most went straight to the garbage, unread. 

But among that handful… who knows? Perhaps the next generation of AVALANCHE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "People think that de facto it's already over, that everything's been decided," Schulmann said. "And this is one of the most effective tools of governing -- to make people believe they can't change anything."
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Hit me up here or on [tumblr](https://subdee.tumblr.com/), I love making friends.


End file.
